The Hand You've Been Dealt
by SamIAm232
Summary: With no memories, a slip of paper, and a give-'em-hell attitude, the Courier treks across the wasteland looking for the man in a checkered suit, and answers to her past. What she finds may be more than she bargained for. First fic, Rated T for language. Welcome to the Mojave.
1. Chapter 1- The Hand You've Been Dealt

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Hey there! Welcome to my first attempt at really writing something. I'm pretty new to writing dialogue, so if you see any mistakes within the story (especially in grammar or punctuation) feel free to message me. When and if I get any better at this I may republish this story, who knows. My goal is to put out a chapter at least once a week, and I'm also going to really try to commit to this because I absolutely hate unfinished Fics. I also want to stay as cannon as possible (with my own little twists for the Courier ) so give me a few chapters to build up the story. Reviews appreciated, hate accepted but hurts me on the inside, so be careful with my sensitive soul. Thanks for reading! :D

 **EDIT-** Fixing an inconsistency for this chapter. Forgot that the delivery note explains the content of the package. Ma Bad.

* * *

 **Chapter 1** \- The Hand You've Been Dealt

The first thing she noticed when she came to was the sound of a shovel hitting dirt. Dazed and confused, it took her a few moments to realize that she wasn't alone. An angry voice came into focus.

 _"You got what you were after, so pay up!"_

 _"You're crying in the rain, pal-y."_

Her heart skipped a beat. _'Oh God'_ she thought, suddenly remembering. Walking through that small town, being jumped out of nowhere. Held down and knocked out with a lead pipe. The package.

The Courier struggled to her knees, noticing that her hands and feet were bound. She stopped to test the bindings for a moment. Yep, too tight. _Shit_.

 _"Hey, guess who's waking up over here…"_

A wave of fear washed through her, but she'd be damned if she wasn't going to look her captors in the eye. She rose her head to face them.

The man who had knocked her out wore an ugly black and white checkered suit. With him were two Khan members; guns for hire, she guessed. Checkers took a long drag of his cigarette before throwing it into the dirt. "Time to cash out."

 _'Oh great'_ she thought. _'I'm about to be killed by some asshole with the worst fashion sense in the wasteland.'_

"Would you get it over with already?" One of the thugs complained. Checkers held up his finger.

"Maybe the Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" He turned to her.

"You've made your last delivery kid. Sorry you got twisted up in this scene."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a platinum chip, _her_ chip. Before she even had the chance to wonder about it's significance, the man replaced it with a beautiful and expensive looking hand gun. Her blood went cold.

"From where you're keeling it must seem like an 18 karat run of bad luck…."

 _'It was just a job'_ , she wanted to scream at him. She wanted to yell for help, beg- _anything_ to get herself out of this. But her voice was lost, along with her hope, and all she could do was stare into his cruel eyes as he said the last words that she would probably ever hear. He aimed his gun at her head.

"Truth is…", he said.

"The game was rigged from the start."

A loud boom, a flash of light. Then darkness.


	2. Chapter 2- Out Of The Frying Pan

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Hola. Bet you didn't expect to hear from me so soon, but my first chapter was really short, so I decided to type up this one ASAP to make up for it. I'll post as soon as I finish each chapter, max one week per, like I mentioned before. This chapter is a bit slow, but hopefully its gonna get the ball rolling for the story. Thanks for sticking around while I test the waters. Saw that there was at least 3 people following this story and I got way too exited (HI GUYS :D).

Shout out to Radio Free Death for being the very first reviewer.

PSA: Reviews get you a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. Hate also gets you a chocolate chip cookie, but with one single raisin hidden somewhere inside it. Oh, and It's also a little stale.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own Fallout or Fallout NV in any way, shape or form. If I did, I would be working tirelessly on a fifth installment, rather than writing this. I'd also have stacks of money that I would spend on my own memorabilia. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter 2** \- Out Of The Frying Pan

Pain.

Pain was the first thing she registered. Like being trampled by a herd of brahmin, run over by a tank, and receiving a first rate ass kicking, all at the same time.

Her head also hurt like a bitch.

Eyes still shut, she tried desperately to remember what had happened the other night, but she kept coming up blank.

In fact, she couldn't remember, well…. anything.

' _Wait_.' She thought. ' _Where…. am I?'_

Her eyes snapped open to see a hazy ceiling fan and an equally hazy wooden ceiling. Sitting up fast, she became nauseated while the light of… _noon?_ brutally assaulted her eyes.

"Whoa, easy there. Easy," a voice startled her. "You've been out cold a couple of days now."

"W-What?" She asked shakily, the pain in her head searing her thoughts. She turned to see an old man sitting across from her. Seeing that he had a kind face immediately made her feel better, sensing that he wasn't a threat. His head was mostly bald and he graced a big white mustache, as if all the hair on his head suddenly decided to migrate to his upper lip. She looked at him with confusion in her eyes, and as she spoke she began to tremble. "What's going on? Who are you? what happened to me?" she asked him in a panicked tone.

The old man held up his hands. "Why don't you just relax a second," he replied. "Get your bearings. Let's see what the damage is. How about your name. Can you tell me your name?"

She paused for a moment. The pain in her head was maddening, distracting her from her thoughts. She racked her brain for a name, any name, but all that came up was…, nothing.

"I-I don't remember," She said softly, tears forming in her eyes. A look of empathy crossed the old man's face. He gave her a sad smile.

"Well nice to meet you, I don't remember." He joked lightly. "Can't say it's what I'd have picked for ya, but if that's your name, that's your name." She smiled despite herself, glad for the man's kindness. He took her hands in his. "My name Is Doc Mitchell," he said gently. "Welcome to Goodsprings."

She left Doc Mitchell's house more confused than ever.

After going through the Vigor tester machine and some weird picture test that didn't tell her much, Doc Mitchell asked how she was feeling.

"My head hurts real bad," she'd said. The pain wasn't as severe as when she had woken up in the hospital bed, but it still hurt like hell.

"Would expect as much." The doctor replied. "I reckon your brain didn't appreciate getting shot at such a close range… or at all, really." He handed her three Med-x's. "Here, take these for the pain. Now don't go taking them all at once, about half of one should help ease the headaches until you have a little more time to recover. Still, use them only when the aches get too bad." His look turned serious. "One isn't enough to make you loopy, much less half of one, but take to many of them too often and you'll be dealing with a lot worse than a simple migraine," He warned, grabbing another one of the syringes from his medical bag and injecting half of its contents into her arm. She sighed with relief as the medicine worked its way into her bloodstream, giving her a pleasant tingling sensation and dulling the pain in her head. After giving her a final once over, Doc Mitchell walked her to the door and handed over a box containing some stimpacks, a handful of caps, six bobby pins, an old looking 9 mm pistol, some ammo, and her old ripped up and bloody clothes.

"Here," he said, holding out a blue jumpsuit with a big yellow 21 printed on the back. "Put this on, else the locals will pick on you for lackin modesty. Was my wife's." She obliged. He looked at her for a moment before going to a back room and coming out with a strange looking contraption. He held it out to her. "Reckon you'd need something like this also, if you're going back out there," he said, helping her attach the thing to her arm. "They call it a Pip-Boy. I grew up in one of them vaults they made before the war, we all got one. Ain't much use to me now, but you might want such a thing, after what you've been through." He paused, a wistful look coming over his face. "I know what it's like. Having something taken from you."

She thanked him.

"Ah, don't mention it." He replied. "It's what I'm here for. If you get hurt out there again, come right on back, I'll fix you up." From his back pocket, he pulled out a worn piece of paper." Found this on you too. Hope you don't mind, but I took a look at it. Was hoping to find something useful, but all it said was something about a platinum chip."

"Courier Six." She said to herself, reading the delivery order as she walked towards the saloon Doc Mitchell referred her to. She didn't remember her _real_ name, but she figured this would do as good as any, at least for the time being. There wasn't much information on the worn note, but a billion questions began popping into her head. A platinum chip? She wondered. Why would anyone bother to make such a simple thing out of platinum? What was it for? Who ordered it to the Strip?

And more importantly, why did Checkers think the damn thing was worth shooting people over? Call her crazy, but this was starting to look like more than a simple delivery job.

All these questions were triggering another headache, so she put the delivery order in her pocket and started fiddling around with her new (for lack of a better word) Pip- Boy, pressing all of the buttons. She came across her body's stats, and a little man popped up on the screen. Around his limbs were a bunch of health bars and the one closest to the head had a little less than half missing from it. She sighed.

' _Wonder if it knows when I'm constipated_ ,' She thought sarcastically.

Walking up to the Prospector's saloon, she was greeted by an old man- Easy Pete. They chatted for a bit about the goings-on of the wasteland. She asked him if he knew anything about her attack. "The man in the fancy suit seemed to be calling the shots," he replied. "That much I know. Other folks in town might know more. Word of advice though: if you catch up with him, watch out. Man's got cold eyes like a snake. Can't be trusted, I'd say."

"Yea, my first impression of him wasn't to good either." She chuckled. "Just gotta speak to him about this." She pushed up her dark colored hair to reveal a barely healed scar that started on the right side of her forehead and snaked down to the bottom of her temple. Easy Pete let out a low whistle.

"Gotta have some serious luck to survive a hit like that. Might be interested in talking to Trudy, woman who owns this saloon. I think she talked to 'em before they left town. "

The Courier thanked him and walked into the saloon where she was greeted by a low growl. She tensed up as a rather large dog glared at her menacingly.

"Uh…. nice doggy?" She said nervously.

"Cheyenne, stay," A young woman spoke to the dog as she walked up to her. She had long brown hair that was tied up into a pony tail and she wore leather armor with rifle strapped to her back. "Don't worry, "she said. "Cheyenne will only bite if I tell her to. Names Sunny. Sunny Smiles." The Courier raised her hand in greeting

"Howdy. My names… Six. I guess." Sunny chuckled.

"Never met someone who wasn't sure of their own name." Six smiled back at her.

"Shows how much I need your help. Doc Mitchell said you could help me survive in the desert? "

"Sure", Sunny replied. "I guess there's a thing or two I could show you. Sounds like you need all the help you can get, after what they done to you. Meet me outside, behind the saloon." Sunny walked out the door and Cheyenne followed, barking happily.

"In my defense, I was outnumbered." Six murmured to herself before walking out to join her.


	3. Chapter 3- And Into The Line Of Fire (1)

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

This chapter ended up being really long, so i cut it into two parts. I'll be posting the other half shortly.

 **Disclaimer** \- I don't own any aspect of Fallout NV, sadly. *Sigh*

Rate/Review, don't be a poo.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter 3** \- And Into The Line Of Fire, Part One

As the sun began to set over Goodsprings, Six and Sunny walked back towards the Prospectors Saloon, sweaty and tired after the day's events.

"Close call back there," Sunny said. "Gecko nearly took your arm off."

"Yea," Six agreed, nursing her recently patched up injury. While trying to save a girl who'd been surrounded by a group of geckos, one of the vicious reptiles jumped out of nowhere and bit into her, its sharp teeth tearing though the thin fabric of her vault suit and leaving an ugly gash on her arm. After a shaky thank you from the woman, Jeannine (who was luckily unharmed) the pair stopped by Doc Mitchell's, who was none too happy about having to treat Six again so soon.

"Lucky you got a dead eye, else I would've had to learn to be a leftie," she mumbled. Sunny laughed.

"Maybe, but before that you did pretty well. You take to a gun natural. Safe to say you've at least had some experience with 'em."

Six nodded her head, remembering how easily she'd picked off the geckos before jumping into the fray to save Jeannine. The rife sunny had given her had felt almost _natural_ in her hands, like an extension of her arm.

She tried not to let that worry her too much.

As the two entered the saloon, a pretty woman with dark hair and a friendly smile walked up from behind the counter. "Howdy, girls", she greeted.

"Hey Trudy," Sunny replied, taking a seat at the bar. "Can I get two sarsaparillas please."

"Sure thing." Trudy brought out the sodas and extended her hand to the courier, who smiled in return and shook it.

"You must be the girl whose been causing quite a stir, glad to finally meet you. Welcome to the Prospectors Saloon. "

"Nice to meet you too," Six replied. "You got anything to eat around here? Coming out of a gunshot induced coma and almost getting my arm torn off has given me quite an appetite."

Trudy chuckled and went to the back, coming out with two steaming bowls of gecko stew. Sunny laughed and stated that this was a revenge meal like no other.

"It's on the house too," Trudy said after setting the bowls down in front of them. "Jeannine came in and told me what you did for her, and I figure you at least deserve some free food, for your good deed."

Six tried to tell her that it was Sunny who did most of the saving, but Trudy cut her off.

"Oh no, none of that. Jeannine told me how you jumped into action when you saw she was being attacked, and I figure anyone willin' to stick their neck out like that for a stranger is good enough to eat at my saloon. "

"Yea," Sunny spoke up. "Plus, the only thing I did was take that last gecko off your arm, you pretty much took out the rest of 'em."

"Exactly." Trudy smiled. "So shut up and eat your food." Six laughed.

"Yes, ma'am," she saluted before digging in.

"So," Sunny said after watching the courier inhale half of her bowl. "What's your story; What'd you do to get shot in the head and left in a shallow grave?" Six looked up from her meal.

"I don't really know," she replied tentatively. "I'm a courier, and I was making a delivery to the Strip when I got attacked by some thugs and a man in a checkered suit. That's all I really know, don't remember much else." She turned to Trudy. "Easy Pete said you might have talked to them; do you know anything about the men who attacked me?"

"Not much." Trudy said. "Other than they're a bunch of freeloaders who expected a few rounds on the house, I was able to get them to pay up though. Fella named Victors' the one who saw the whole thing go down, dug you outta your grave. Might wanna talk to him, he'd probably know more."

"Oh yeah, Victor," the Courier said, remembering Doc Mitchell mentioning him before. "What's he like?"

"Big robot, can't miss 'em. He's usually rolling around here somewhere during the day."

"Victors' a _robot_?" Six asked, startled.

"Yea." Trudy's look turned sour.

"What's wrong? Do you know him well?"

Trudy hesitated. "I know that… thing as well as anyone else around here. It mostly keeps to itself, which is just fine by me. It was here when I took over the saloon seven years ago, and rumor has it that it's owner used to live here, but no one knows who it was." Trudy shuddered. "It's never tried to…. help anyone before."

"What, don't trust him?" Six asked. The older woman shrugged.

"It _acts_ friendly enough, but I don't trust the whole cheerful cowboy act, I find it all very creepy. I don't know, maybe it's the voice, or maybe the fact that no one knows where it really came from, but to me, that robot spells trouble."

Six nodded. "I'll have to catch up with him sometime." She wasn't sure what Victor's presence could mean. Hell, maybe it didn't mean anything, but she had a gut feeling that there was more going on than what she could see.

She just hoped she was wrong.

"So!" Trudy said, interrupting her thoughts. "Tell me about yourself, there's gotta be more to ya then just getting shot up by strangers."

So the trio sat around the bar, laughing and trading stories while passing a bottle of wine around. Six told them about how she didn't remember her name or anything before that night at the cemetery. She also told them about how her head start hurting the more she tried to remember.

"It's weird, almost like I didn't even exist before that night," She said. "The first thing that pops up when I try to think back is waking up in the dirt, dizzy, with my hands tied up. But when I try to go further, the pain in my head gets so bad, its unbearable. Can't even remember what I ate for breakfast that morning." Six paused, shaking her head. "I remember regular things, like how to speak, and count and all that, but everything about me, about who I was is just… gone."

"You know," Trudy interjected. "I once knew a man who got amnesia back in my hometown, name was crazy Al. Well, that's what we called him anyways. Rumor was that Crazy Al was a solder, and he went through some bad shit while he was in service. They say that the memories got to be so bad, his brain just decided to block them. Most days he seemed fine, but when crazy Al got a little too drunk, he would go around talking nonsense to people, about how he kept seeing things he couldn't make sense of in his head; horrible things at these random times. Well after a while it all got to be too much for him, and he started drinking more and more, just so he could sleep right. Died of alcohol poison after a while." Trudy looked at the Courier.

"Maybe it's like that for you too. Maybe you don't remember cause you don't _want_ to remember, so your brains trying to make it hard to come back; trying to make you forget."

A sudden chill went up Six's spine. she pictured her memories like maggots, trying to worm their way into her head. Pain flared up in her skull again, but she pushed it down and tried to ignore it.

"Way to kill the mood, Trudy," Sunny mumbled after a while. An apologetic look crossed the older woman's face.

"Sorry… forget I said anything, I get a little too talkative when I've been drinking. I'm sure your memories will come back, give or take a few days."

"Yea," sunny interjected. "Besides, I'm sure they just got scrambled up on account of the bullet. I'd be surprised if you _didn't_ have something goin' on up there, after what you've been through. Don't worry about it too much."

"You're right," Six replied, taking another sip of wine. "It's probably nothing."

But that night, when she camped out under the stars, the air felt different. Heavy with all the things she didn't remember.

* * *

While she slept, Six dreamed in flashes of light. One by one they came, intertwining with one another, making her dizzy. Voices emerged like ghosts.

The blinding white light of a gun being fired. _The game was rigged from the start_ …

The hazy yellow of Doc Mitchell's home. _You've been out cold a couple of days now_ …

And… fire, eating up everything in its path. _Run.._.

Her dream began to shift.

A young girl came into focus, fire swirling around her. Gray smoke rose in the air, blurring her vision. The noise of gunfire echoed in her ears.

The little girl stood there, crying; reaching out for her. She tried to focus on the girl's face, but the more she tried, the thicker the smoke became.

" _Run!"_ She tried to cry at the small figure. But the smoke invaded her lungs, choking her. The flames bean to rise; burning stronger and stronger until they were all she could see.

Suddenly, the gunfire stopped, and all she could hear were the crackle of flames, mingled with her own labored breaths.

Then all of a sudden, one shot rang out, clear and vibrant. She heard a small cry. Six felt herself drop to her knees.

" _NO!"_

* * *

Six woke with a start.

"Sonofabitch!" she shouted, clutching her head. The pain was so intense, she felt that someone had poured a vat of acid onto her brain. Sitting up, she reached into her pack and pulled out a syringe of Med- x. She hesitated for a moment before injecting the whole thing into her arm.

Slowly, the pain began to dull, and the pleasing tingle began to work its way through her body.

"Better," she sighed, putting the medicine away. She felt a bit guilty that she used all of it, but the pain was the worst she had experienced so far, and she concluded that it was a justified decision. She laid back down on the old mattress and tried to remember what she had been dreaming about. The first thing that came to her was a face, so blurry that she couldn't make out the features. And fire. Fire was what she remembered more than anything else. She sighed.

All in due time.

Six checked the time on her Pip- Boy, 4 AM. Yawning, she turned to her side and snuggled into the blanket Trudy had given her The woman had offered to make room for her t her house, but Six had politely declined.

"I should camp out tonight, learn to live outside again," She had told her. As Six left the saloon, she wondered if she was used to camping. She figured that she must be, what with being a courier and all.

Six had walked around for a bit and spotted an old RV with a dirty mattress inside, complete with a cold campfire. Better than nothing.

As she snuggled into bed, Six felt the warm sensation of the Med-x all around her, making her thoughts become pleasantly fuzzy. Not long after, she drifted back off to sleep, dreamless and peaceful.

* * *

The next day, Six walked back to the saloon, looking forward to hanging out with her new friends again. Trudy agreed to let her help around the saloon so she could earn a few caps to get her back on her feet. She even offered to teach her a bit of cooking to serve customers.

Walking through the front door, she heard an angry voice come from around the corner.

"I'm done being nice. If you don't hand Ringo over soon, I'm going to get my friends and we're burning this town to the ground, got it?"

"We'll keep that in mind," she heard Trudy say. "Now if you're not gonna buy something, get out."

A man with dark skin and a scowl on his face came from around the corner and nearly knocked her over.

"You got a problem?!" he yelled at her.

"No problem here," She replied thickly, collecting herself. The man gave her the eye and she gave it right back.

"Hmph, whatever," he said after a while and left, slamming the door behind him.

"Asshole," Six murmured before walking up to the bar.

"What was that all about?" she asked Trudy.

"Looks like out little town got itself dragged into the middle of something we don't want anything to do with," She replied.

"What do you mean?"

"About a week ago this trader, Ringo, comes into town. Survivor of an attack he says, bad men after him, needs a place to hide. So the folks here gave him a place to lie low. Nobody expected anyone to come after him, but it's starting to look like we were wrong."

"And who was that Casanova?" Six asked. Trudy rolled her eyes.

"Said his name was Cobb. Leader of a group that call themselves "Powder Gangers". Unfortunately, there's plenty more like him out there."

Powder Gangers? She tried to rack her brain for the term, but of course, she drew a blank.

Trudy saw her confused look so she explained how the gang group came in from California, courtesy of the NCR.

"And who's the NCR?" All these things she had no idea about were beginning to frustrate her.

"NCR's the biggest army in the Mojave, based out of California. Their goal is to restore all those prewar values back into the wasteland. You know, government, law, money and trade regulation, stuff like that. They can be a bit annoying, what with the strict rules and all, but they keep things safer for the most part, so people tolerate them."

She took a moment to process all the new information. _'I'll look into this later,'_ she thought.

"This Cobb guy seems like trouble. Where's the man he's after, Ringo? I want to talk to him."

"He's holed up at the abandoned gas station up the hill."

"Alright, I'll talk to him tonight, see what we can do about this."

Trudy shrugged. "If you think you can get rid of him, be my guest. He hasn't asked for any help yet, but personally, I hope he sneaks off one night and takes the Powder Gangers with him. This town doesn't need stuff like this stirring up bad blood. Situations like these tend to end messy."

Six nodded her head.

"Always does."

* * *

That night, after Trudy closed the saloon, Six headed over to the abandoned gas station. Walking up to the old wooden door, she gave it a knock. "Hello?" she called. No reply came.

Taking out her pistol, she slowly opened the door and stepped inside.

"Hello?" she called again, straining to see in the darkness. She was just about to turn on her Pip-Boy light when somebody tackled her from the side. "Agh!" she cried.

" _Who are you?_ "a voice hissed in her ear; the figure had her pinned to the floor. " _What do you want with me?"_

"Get off of me!"

He pressed a gun to her temple. "Not until you tell me your business, stranger."

"Hey pal!", she shouted. "I've already been shot in the head once this week, and I'm not planning on getting shot again!" She glared at him. "And I'm not an enemy, if that's what you're wondering, names Six. I heard you got problem with the Powder Gangers and I was wondering if I could help."

"Help?" He lifted himself off of her. Standing up, he offered her a hand, but she ignored it and got herself off the ground, dusting the dirt off of her clothes. Ringo turned on small a fission lamp and gave her a sheepish look

"Sorry about the gun, you just caught me off guard is all. "

Six eyed him warily, her face a bit flushed from the incident. ' _I really hope I'm not that easy to take down all the time,'_ She thought to herself.

"I came to talk about how to get the Powder Gangers out of Goodsprings," she repeated. Ringo paled.

"You're not gonna turn me over to them, are you?"

"What, no." She shook her head. "Why are they after you anyways?" Ringo grimaced.

"I work for the Crimson Caravan Company. My caravan was on the return trip from California and heading back up to the company branch in New Vegas when we got jumped. Not even a "drop your weapons and hands up" before the bullets started flying." His expressions turned sad. "We put up a good fight, but there was too many of them. I took a few of the bandits down before I ran, so I figure their friends are out for revenge."

"What were you planning on doing about them?" She asked.

"I was _planning_ on laying low for as long as I can, assuming the town doesn't throw me to the wolves. I've got no chance against all of them on my own." He gave her a cheeky grin.

"Their leader, Cobb, has been looking for me, but he ain't so tough. I hear he's afraid I'll shoot him down from one of the windows when I see him, and he's right." He looked at her for a brief moment.

"You know; you have pretty eyes." Six gave him a grumpy look.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere here, bub." He raised his hands in surrender.

"Wasn't trying anything, promise. Look I'm sorry I tackled you. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but let's say we start over with a friendly game of caravan. You know how to play?"

She admitted that she didn't, so he handed her a holotape. "Tells you the rules, caravan's fun once you get the hang of it. Here take one of my extra decks, a peace offering for being so inconsiderate, m'lady."

He gave her a low bow. Six tried to keep her composure, but her grumpy look gave over to a small chuckle.

"Alright already, I forgive you. Now shut up and let's figure out how to get rid of the damn Powder Gangers. Maybe I could back you up?"

He smiled at her. "Thanks, but we'd just end up sharing the same grave if it was just the two of us; although to die in such pleasurable company would be a great way to go. However, as you stated that you _weren't_ planning on getting shot anytime soon, maybe we should try to get some of the townspeople on board."

"Not a bad idea," she replied. "Would be good to have the backup, and show that that this town can handle itself." He gave her a strange look.

"Yea. Best bet is to start with Sunny Smiles, she's been friendlier than most around here."

"Got it, I'll see who I can round up." She started walking towards the door.

"Hey girlie," Ringo called out to her. "What's your name again?" She turned to look at him.

"Six," she replied with a smile. "And don't call me girlie again, or I'll shoot you myself." He chuckled.

"I believe you."


	4. Chapter 4- And Into The Line Of Fire (2)

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Here's the second half, sorry it took so long.

I would also like to mention that this will be an eventual Courier/ Boone fic, hence why they're the two characters in the description. One of the things I really want to do in this story is emphasize the Courier's relationship with the people around her, and hopefully that translates into the chapters. I do have a sequel and even a prequel planned for this story, its still in the beginning phases but ultimately the decision to write it will be on whether or not I think it even deserves a sequel. Anyway, I'll shut up now.

 **Disclaimer** \- Don't own nuthin.

Rate/review. Pretty please?

Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter 4** \- And Into The Line Of Fire, Part 2

"Say no more, I'm in," Sunny said the when Six caught up with her the next morning. A look of surprise crossed the Courier's face.

"Well, that was easy," Six replied. Sunny grimaced.

"Joe Cobb talks about leaving us alone if we hand over Ringo, but I know his type. He and his friends will come after the town eventually. However, between you, me and Ringo, we aren't exactly a force to be reckoned with." Sunny thought for a moment.

"A lot of the people here look up to Trudy. If you can convince her to help us, some of the other folks might decide to help out as well." Sunny began pacing around. "Easy Pete's got a stack of dynamite buried somewhere, and Chet just got a shipment of leather armor we could use, so you should talk to them as well. And since there's a good chance well all end up with some extra holes in us, you might wanna talk Doc Mitchell into coughing up some extra Stimpacks. With all of that, we might stand a chance."

"Think they'll lend a hand?" Six asked. Sunny shrugged.

The Doc will more than likely give us some medicine, but Easy Pete, Trudy and Chet might be more difficult to convince. Pete's real protective of his dynamite and Chet is a greedy bastard; I don't think the words "free" or "give" are really in his vocabulary. Trudy likes you, but she's hoping that this doesn't end with a fight, we're gonna need to convince her that we can really win this." Six sighed.

"Alright, all talk to them later today, see who I can get on our side." Sunny nodded.

"Good luck."

* * *

Six exited the saloon a few hours later, and since she didn't see Easy Pete in his chair, she started heading over to Doc Mitchell's to ask for the medicine.

She walked with her head down, so lost in thought that she didn't notice the giant robot until she bumped into him.

"Beg your pardon, ma'am," the robot said. "But wait a minute, you're that girl who was shot up at the ol' cemetery! Well hey, Nice to see you're up and movin, and might I say, you are looking fit a fiddle!"

"Oh, hello," the Courier replied. "Victor right?" The robot gave a chuckle.

"Yes, ma'am, Victor at your service! Anything I can help you with?"

She took a moment to get a good look at him. He was big; dark blue with long, mechanical arms. He had a wheel for feet and a small, black and white screen where his "face" would be. The screen displayed a smiling cowboy with a cigarette in his mouth.

"No," she replied. "But listen, thanks for digging me out of that grave. I owe you my life."

"Shucks naw," he said kindly. "I'm always ready to lend a hand to a stranger in need."

"Still, I wouldn't have made it without you." She paused. "By the way, how did you happen to find me?"

"I was out for a stroll that night when I heard the commotion up at the old bone orchard. Saw what looked like a bunch of bad eggs, so I laid low. Once they'd run off, I dug you up to see if you were still kickin'. Turns out you were, so I hauled you off to the Doc right quick."

"Do you know who those men where?"

"Can't say I'm familiar with the rascals, sorry."

The courier sighed. "Alright Victor, thanks for the help. And again, thanks for saving my life."

"Ah, forget about it," Victor replied happily. "I just took you to the ol' Doc, it was you who managed to come out clean on the other side. If you need anything else, I have a little shack here in town, come by and visit anytime."

"Alright." The Courier paused. "And, Victor?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Sunny and I are planning to defend this town from some Powder Gangers, and we could use all the help we can get. You in?"

"Right as rain! I'm always itchin' for a good ol' fashioned gunfight. I'll be there."

The Courier smiled.

"Great. I'll see ya later."

As she walked away from the robot, a strange feeling overcame her. She looked to the distance, towards the Goodsprings cemetery.

"The Doc will have wait." She turned and headed towards the graves that seemed to be on fire, lit up by the setting Mojave sun.

* * *

As Six neared the the old cemetery, the sun began to slowly disappear over the horizon. Bursts of wind began drifting through the air and she shivered from the sudden cold. As she passed several gray tombstones, she swore she heard the sound of faint whispers, beckoning her towards the graves. Six smacked herself in the head.

"This is stupid," she said to herself. "I don't believe in ghosts… I think. It's just the wind."

But still, the sounds were enough to unnerve her. She was so concentrated on the wind that she nearly fell into a freshly dug hole. Cursing, she turned her pip boy light on and pointed it towards the ground.

Empty bottles and cigarette butts littered around what would have been her grave. A pile of dirt sat inconspicuously besides the hole, and inside it lay a fully intact cigarette.

"Hmm," she said, leaning down to retrieve it. Holding it in her hand, she aimed her light towards it and saw that the filter had a unique design. Little gold spirals curled up the cigarette, like smoke rising into the air. She briefly wondered why anyone would bother to fancy up something that was destined to be reduced to ash.

"This guy is starting to seem more and more like a _real_ piece of work," she muttered, pocketing the cigarette. She looked around for more, but it had become too dark too see much else.

After a moment she sat herself in the dirt, feet resting at the bottom of the grave. She took a long look around the dark landscape, flashing back to the moment right before she had been shot, the only memories that didn't cause her head to hurt.

' _I'm supposed to be dead,_ ' She thought. ' _Why am I not dead?'_

Out of nowhere, a whisper of a voice materialized in her mind.

 _It's your destiny…._ It said. All at once, the blinding headache returned, making her feel almost as bad as the night before.

"Ugh," she cried, putting her head in her hands. Flashes of a woman came in rapid succession.

 _It's your destiny_. The woman said again. For brief second, Six could see her face as clear as day. She had worn features, lines on her face from seemingly years of worry. She was also dirty, with her dark hair sloppily shaved, as was evident with the many random, uneven patches on her head. She looked tired and sad, but she was beautiful, with tan skin and dark green eyes.

 _You are chosen._ The woman said in her head, in her… memory?

"Chosen," Six murmured. The word sounded familiar, like it was something important she used to know. The answer was on the edge of her consciousness- so close she could feel it, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember its significance. Slowly, the woman began to fade from her mind.

"Who are you," Six said aloud. "What do you mean?" No answer came, and she wondered what she had expected.

The wind whipped harder, making it sound like a room full of people, a room full of ghosts.

Quickly, she jumped up and hurried away from the cemetery, from her grave, and from the woman she couldn't remember.

* * *

"Look alive!" Sunny shouted later the next day as she ran into the Prospectors Saloon, rifle in hand. Six looked up from the drink she was serving.

"They here?" she asked. Sunny nodded.

"Already got Ringo up and ready, and roused some of the volunteers. One of them spotted Cobb a little ways down the road, so they'll be here soon enough." Sunny tossed her some leather armor.

"Good job getting Chett to give these out, get dressed," Sunny said. Six nodded and headed towards the bathroom. It hadn't been easy, but eventually Chet had forked over some armor and extra rounds for the militia that night after her visit to the cemetery. At first he had outright refused and, frustrated that he was being so difficult, Six had angrily stated that that having no one to sell to but a couple of corpses would be worse for business than a simple hand out.

"You've got a point," he'd said, going to the back of the store and coming out with a crate full of several outfits and a good supply of ammo. "And uh, if you don't mind, I'll be guarding the store while all this is going on. I have to put my business first, you understand."

She had barley resisted rolling her eyes at that. Doc Mitchell was easy enough to convince on the other hand, as she knew he would be." Someday I'm gonna pay you back for all that you've done for me," She'd said sincerely.

"Quit frettin'," He replied, handing her a small bag of Stimpacks. It's not much but I hope these help. "Not much use in a fight myself, with my bum leg, but maybe these will make up for it."

Trudy was the hardest of all to convince, but Sunny had backed her up, saying how the Powder Gangers weren't gonna leave this town alone.

"We were put in their sights the moment Cobb stepped in here," Sunny had argued. "We should focus on getting this town prepared, rather than let ourselves be sitting ducks. Show them we ain't one to mess with." Six nodded in agreement.

"Joe Cobb and those bandits are relentless, and you know it. If we don't take care of this, eventuality they _will_ target the town and the merchants who want to stop here. If the Powder Gangers themselves don't wipe y'all out, the lack of business surely will." Trudy gave her a long look.

"You're right," she had finally said.

Earlier that morning, Trudy and Six made rounds to all the people in Goodsprings, asking and convincing people to volunteer for the militia, and handing out supplies to those who agreed. Soon, they had a decent army on their hands. Trudy had the idea for setting a watch, so the convicts couldn't get the jump on them.

Looks like it's time for a showdown, Easy Pete said, poking his head into the saloon. Six recalled how she had tried to get him to lend out his dynamite, but to no avail.

"Most people round here don't have enough experience with the stuff," he'd said. He eyed her. "And a young thing like you is gonna be needing her fingers for future use. Let me handle the dynamite."

"But…"

"Ah, ah," he interrupted her. " Let me handle the dynamite."

Six hurried to the bathroom and quickly changed into the armor, her heart beating hard in her chest. She hoped they were doing the right thing. Jogging back to the bar, she let out a low whistle as Trudy pulled out a hunting shotgun from behind the counter. She cocked it.

"Remind me ever to mess with you."

"Damn right," Trudy replied, walking out the door. Sunny and six looked at each other before following her out.

Outside, she saw Ringo run up to them.

"They're here," he breathed. "Just did a check and everybody is in position. There's quite a few guys out there, and they look pretty mean."

"We're meaner," Trudy said, fire in her eyes. Ringo's eyebrows flew up.

"For someone who didn't want to fight, you sure look like you're ready to kill."

"Nobody messes with my town, with my people," she said through gritted teeth. "It's time to end this."

"Alright!" Ringo said, slapping his knee. "Let's do this!"

They all got into position, Trudy and Sunny covering the saloon, Ringo and Six taking cover behind the boxes near Chet's store.

The first shots rang out.

"You ready?" he asked her. She looked at him.

"Ready as ever."

* * *

"Come on, girlie!" Ringo shouted at her. "Trudy's setting up a little get together at the bar, discounts on drinks and everything!"

"I'll be there in a second!" she shouted back, looking up from the dead Powder Ganger's body. She picked through the dead man's pockets, finding ammo, dynamite and even a few caps. After looting all of the bodies for anything useful, her and Sunny carried the bits and pieces away from the town, all the while talking about the day's events.

The fight didn't last as long as she thought it would have, with fewer Powder Gangers than Cobb had let on. With so many of the townspeople on their side, picking off the gang was almost too easy. The battle resulted in only one injury, a man who was shot in the leg, but otherwise unharmed. Six and Sunny had carried him out of the fight and the Doc patched him up good as new.

"The bastards didn't stand a chance," Sunny said. Six nodded. "Town is tougher than I thought."

It was true. The townsfolk were decent marksmen, and Ringo and Sunny were deadly with their weapons. Easy Pete looked like he was having the time of his life, flinging dynamite left and right at the enemy. At one point, he had even caught one in midair and chucked it back at an unsuspecting Powder Ganger, blasting him to a million pieces. "I'm suddenly glad Easy Pete decided not to give us the dynamite," Sunny had commented.

She almost didn't even get a shot off until the second wave of criminals, shooting one down before they go the jump on Trudy. She in return saved her hide by blasting a particularly crazy convict away with her shotgun, after the man had managed to knock her gun out of her hand while coming at her with a cleaver.

She even swore she saw the glint of a sniper rifle coming from the Doctor's house. And it was confirmed when she heard particularly loud shots ring out, followed by men dropping for seemingly no reason. Ringo was the one who personally took Cobb down, shouting, "This one's for my men, you bastard!" before shooting Cobb once in the leg and twice in the chest. after the battle was over, Ringo had walked up to the body and shot it one more time in the head for "good measure", before heading to the bar. It seemed that almost everyone in town had decided to participate in the fight.

The only one she hadn't seen was Victor.

She thought about the robot while picking through the last of the bodies and throwing the remains into a makeshift bonfire. Six realized that she hadn't seen Victor all day, and that made her wonder where he had gone off to. He'd seemed like he had _wanted_ to be a part of the fighting.

After a while the tired girls trudged over to the saloon, where a party was in full swing. A wave of voices rang in her ears as the townsfolk greeted her and her companion.

A stranger patted her on the back. "You did good out there, doll. We couldn't have done it if it wasn't for you." Six blushed.

"Was nothing. I didn't really even do much; this town is capable enough on its own." The man nodded his head.

"Took a stranger, though, to show us what we can do. And as far as we're concerned, you're one of us now." The surrounding people raised their glasses and cheered at that. Ringo walked up and put his arm around her.

"Give it up for Six!" he shouted. The crowd began clapping and she felt her blush reaching all the way to her neck. Ringo laughed at her.

You look like a tomato, girlie. He gestured at the bar. "Have a seat, drinks are on me, and I'll finally teach you how to play caravan, whatcha say?"

"I'll take you up on those free drinks," Sunny spoke up, taking a seat at the bar. Six and Ringo joined her, while Trudy brought them a couple of beers and some more gecko stew.

"Sticking around for a few more days? "Trudy asked her. Six nodded.

"Definitely."


	5. Author's Note

**Author's Note:**

* * *

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack (well kind of). I'm working on another chapter and hopefully I'll get it up by tomorrow, so look out for that. The reason for me going MIA? ...Reasons. But I'm excited to get back into this story, I really miss working on it. See you guys soon!


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